


Durins & Tooks

by Questions3



Series: Nightshade [11]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Hobbits, Baby Hobbits, Gen, Sassy Hobbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: The boys meet the Breeland Tooks





	

            “Welcome to Breeland boys. These are my extended relations. Don’t touch anything you don’t recognize and keep your hands away from the mouths of anything smaller than me,” Bilbo paused as she turned her face sideways and whispered out the side her mouth, “And careful lads, they sense _fear_ ,” as she gestured to the gaggle of some of the _tiniest_ creatures Kíli’d ever laid eyes on! They were smaller than the _bunny_ his mother’d let him keep as a child. The tiny thing’d up and ran away during one particularly lean winter, broke his tiny heart. Uncle Thorin had tried to make them feel better by gifting him and Fíli a pair of warm fur mittens, and Ma had made meat stew that night, something they hadn’t been able to afford in months. He’d been assured however that Mister Whiskers was fine. Dwalin had even seen him the next spring in the field around Ered Luin… _Any_ way, the point was the baby hobbits were _so tiny_! And fluffy with the riotous curls bouncing all over the place.

            “Are those _children_?!” there were some days Kíli truly wondered how his family were meant to rule anything. There was Ma with her less than patient attitude towards anything that _flirted_ with stupid, Uncle Thorin and his attitude, period, and then there was his golden brother who had the people skills of a wild boar. If he couldn’t poke it it wasn’t worth investigating. Which is how he found Bilbo’s warning was far from idle.

            “OUCH!” The golden prince yelped as he jerked his bleeding digit back to himself and cradled his wounded paw, all while staring incredulously at the tiny tot who’d just bit him. The baby Halfling had curls that practically curled _up_ of a bright orange, green eyes the size of saucers in a chubby face, its face was a mask of pale white and darker speckles with a wide smile that showed off the gap in its front teeth. Chubby cheeks and dimples almost made you forget the little devil had just tried to eat the heir of Durin. But the cuteness was dampened dramatically as the little display was rapidly drawing the attentions of its little friends, all equally freckled, equally dimpled, and equally toothy.

            Just before the Durin lads could decide on the best way to make a strategic retreat _their_ tiny burglar stepped forward and grasped the original devil up into her arms, waving an admonishing finger in his tiny face, “Now Fallon! That’s no way to greet anyone! Honestly you’d think you were a Bracegirdle, that savagery.”

            “Sorry Auntie Bilbo,” the down turned face was a wretched portrait of contrition.

            Bilbo was unfazed as she insisted, “It’s hardly _me_ you needs apologize to now is it?”

            Big forest green eyes turned towards the dwarrow and the pair felt something like being kicked in the stomach, “Sorry for bitin’ yer hand Mister.”

            Fíli and Kíli almost tripped over each other trying to reassure the tiny mite they harbored no hard feelings, “Not a problem at all!”

            “A flesh wound!”

            “Kíli’s done me worse in his sleep.”

            “Nothing could be as tragic as his face already is.”

            “Who’s face are you insulting you hairless elf!?”

            “You’re just jealous cause no matter how much beard you grow you can’t hide that ugly mug. I’m only going to get better looking when _my_ beard comes in.”

            The tête-à-tête was interrupted by a chorus of giggles as the tiny audience clamored closer to the odd looking pair.

            Kíli found himself facing off with, easily, the tiniest of the lot, no matter the incredibly poofy pink dress attempted to grant extra girth, who used her big emeralds to lure him in and her tiny hands to gesture he should pick her up. When he didn’t do it immediately a tiny pink bow mouth tightened and a tiny bell like voice demanded, “Up!”

            Turning to Bilbo with panicked eyes he saw the burglar smiling as she thrust the tiny Fallon over to Fíli’s terrified arms. The original tiny terror was giggling as he grasped at the braids on his brother’s mustache. Seeing the desperate look in Kíli’s eyes Bilbo laughed outright, “Lad she’s just gonna climb you if you don’t pick her up.”

            Brown eyes blew wide at that and he turned back to see the tiny one had gotten closer and was staring him down. With a tiny stomp of her foot she demanded once more, “Up!” As she reached out to grasp his pant leg he jumped to comply. Once settled close to his chest with one hand cradling her back and the other resting below her the tot smiled almost shyly, pink cheeks dipping into themselves as she touched his cheek, “Pretty.”

            Kíli smiled wide at that, “No, you’re pretty!”

            She giggled and squirmed a bit at that.

            “She barely comes up to your shin Kee,” Fíli announced from where he was slowly being overrun as two other hobbitlings had started to hang off his free arm and back.

            Bilbo snorted where she crouched in the dirt of the yard they’d stopped in front of drawing the larger two children into a game involving circles and triangles, “Please. That’s Eglantine Banks. She’s wrapped every male relation in Staddle[1] around her pudgy pinkie finger.” Glancing up the burglar noted the besotted look on the youngest Durin as the tiny beauty dazzled him. Smirking she turned a droll look to the elder lad who was making a strong effort to keep from falling under the gaggle of tiny tots swarming him, “I think she may be part Siren, on her ma’s side. Those Underhills have roots in the fey ye know.”

            At that the tiny pack all gasped and leaped off Fee to gather round their Auntie. Little Eglantine seemingly contented to make demands on Kíli, “Close! Stowy!” To which the lad eagerly plopped to the ground beside the rest of the tots, Fíli not far behind, little Fallon in his lap. The older lads she’d been playing with sat back and asked in unison, “Story?! Aunt Bilbo, are you gonna tell us a story!?”

            The lad’s watched as their cantankerous Master Boggins giggled as happily as any of the children, her own half dimpled smile perking out as she surveyed the eager lot. Hands falling to hips she swooped close to the tiny faces, “Now wait a mo’, are you lot tellin’ me you ain’t never heard the tale of the Big Folk who stumbled into an Underhill party?”

            A giggling chorus of, “No!”s washed through the lot.

            Amber eyes crinkled as a disbelieving face was affected, “Now how could that be? No ye’re all just havin’ me on!”

            Once more, “No!” and “Please Aunt Bilbo!” echoed through the gaggle.

            Fíli laughed as he watched the little ones get even more excited, pressing into each other and towards their crouched Auntie, “Come Burglar! Tell us the story! I know for fact myself and Kee haven’t heard it.” The little ones instantly began screaming their agreements.

            Bilbo’s lips quivered as she contained her own laughter. Widening her eyes she made a small leap from her position, landing lithely on the tiny white fence behind her, to much oohs and ahhs, before sweeping her hand out to capture attention, “It’s well you mention it, for burgled is just what those Tall Folk were. This happened long _long_ ago and _far_ away. Before Bree or the Shire was so much a thought in Man or Hobbit minds. When Hobbits were more faerie than mortal and lived far to the East. In a land veiled by mist and magics that kept them safe from the Wild Things and hidden from Tall Folk. Even so, they knew of them, hard not too when they’re voices and cries haunted the nights,

 

_“Dare you haunt our hallow’d green?_

_None but fairies here are seen_

_Down and sleep,_

_Wake and weep,_

_Pinch him black, and pinch him blue,_

_That seeks to steal a lover true!_

_When you come to hear us sing,_

_Or to tread our fairy ring,_

_Pinch him black, and pinch him blue!_

_O thus our nails shall handle you! **[2]**_ ”

 

            Bilbo smirked, as she remained crouched on the fence, baring her teeth and claws at her audience. Tiny faces near caved way under eyes gone huge. Even the dwarrow seemed to have been caught in her web, clutching the faunts in their laps tighter at the threat. She rose to her full height, balanced on the slates of the fence, danced over the tops a mo’ as feigning a fault in balance to clear the air with tiny trills of laughter before smiling back at her audience once more. “Of course, that’s hardly the case now is it? What hobbit have you met who’d do such nasty things to anyone?”

            “Delia! She gave me a bruise just the other day!” one of the blonder lasses that sat in front of Fíli. Beside her, Delia scowled and pushed her sister, “I did not!”

            Before the twins could loose their ire on each other Bilbo continued, “Well we’ve all still a bit of the Wilds in us after all,” Delia stuck her tongue out at her sister before turning back to her Auntie’s story, “Some more than others. But that’s hardly the story. Of course just because they heard the voices on the wind, the Big Folk were hardly willing to believe they existed. We all know they don’t really appreciate anything they can’t see themselves.”

            “Mama says they’re ‘half blind tits that jostle about town like chickens with the blight,’” little Fallon nodded firmly at the truth in his mother’s disparaging comments, causing the dwarrow to near burst something trying to keep themselves from keening in uproarious laughter.

            Clearing her throat Bilbo hid her own smile behind her hand, “Hmm, um, yes, dear. Lets not go bandying that about anywhere they’d be hearing it okay lad?”

            “Papa says they hear out their arse cause they certain ain’t usin’ their ears,” Lily, another Banks, sitting in front of Kíli offered to the lot and had tears rolling down Kíli’s face and little Eglantine bemoaning, “Stoooooop” as she pouted while the lad tried to get his shakes under control.

            Shaking her head Bilbo announced, “Anyway. Being as they hear out their bums and see through their hands the Tall Folk wanted nothing more than to prove their fears were nonsense. ‘It’s merely the winds,’ they said. ‘It’s animals yowling,’ another would contribute. ‘What nonsense you speak it’s nothing at all, only yer minds playing tricks.’”

            She stood straight up, puffing her chest out and turning a severe face on as she continued, “It didn’t take long for a group of sturdy young lads to set themselves the task of finding the source of their curiosity. Four sons of Men mustered tack and rations and off into the Wilds they went. They slept by day and traveled by night, seein’ they couldn’t find direction without the songs and sounds,

 

_“Stay, silver ray,_

_Till the airy way we wing_

_To the shade of the glade_

_Where the fairies dance and sing:_

_The mortals are asleep –_

_They can never understand_

_That night brings delight,_

_It is day in Fairyland **[3]**_

 

            “After weeks of searching, ever moving closer and closer to the revels the lads finally stumbled upon the most unusual of sights. Dancing and playing, eating and drinking, jumping and singing were wee folk, no bigger than Esmond’s hands,” the lad sat up straighter where he leaned against Kíli’s right and turned his hand up for all to see how small it was indeed. “Little people who glowed as they pranced and danced merrily about in rings ever growing out. They were entranced, these Big Folk, wondering how the wondrous creatures could light the night with just their smiles and delight.” Bilbo turned her eyes and head this way and that dramatically before continuing in a loud stage whisper, “Twas magics, of course, but they were Big Folk, hardly open to the sort. A small group of the wee things spotted them and, curious as any little faunt they ran up to them and asked if they’d join their revelry. Seeing no harm they joined the dance, twenty, thirty fey racing under and over them as they went. And as the night wore on the lads began to feel sleepy, food and drink making them tire quickly. So they lay on the grass in the mist and magics that kept the wee folk safe from the Wild Things and hidden from Tall Folk. All but one, the eldest of the lot stayed awake and continued to dance and prance until the first rays of the blinding morning light burst through the canopy of the forest and suddenly,” Bilbo bounced back into a crouch startling a gasp from the gathering at her feet, Fee tried to turn his own into a cough as he watched on with slightly pinkened cheeks, “Gone! He found himself quite alone in a quiet glen near rolling green hills and fields of mushrooms and daffodils.”

            “Where’d the rest go?!” Kíli demanded, eyes wide as he leaned forward with the rest of the youths, all of them nodding their concerned agreement. Fíli placed a hand over his eyes as he embarrassingly continued to claim the child as his brother.

            Bilbo smirked as she rose again and paced the fence, turning away from the group, “No clue.”

            That caused uproar as the faunts and Durins demanded to know, calling her five kinds of liar and moaning her name. With a laugh she performed a backwards cartwheel and returned to her previous perch, crouched once more, “They say the addled lad raced about the lands, bellowing for his kin and any sign of the wee folk. He waited for night once more and found nothing in the glen, though he thought he caught faint hints of music coming from somewhere near, somewhere _in_ the hills he’d found himself. After a time he had no choice but to abandon the glen and race home for help. But when he got back no one knew what he was talking about.”

            “About the fairy music?” it was Kíli’s turn to place his head in his hands, though little Eglantine promptly gave a fuss and recaptured the larger hands and wrapped them around her once more.

            Bilbo shook her head as she sat down on the fence, one foot bent to support her arm as the other swung back and forth, “No lad, I mean at _all._ No one remembered the music, the voices, the journey, or even the missing lads. Their own mother’s hadn’t a blessed memory of having them. But then, they’d had something like seven a piece so missin’ one wasn’t too much a travesty,” this had the Baggins chuckling quietly as the tiny ones, each something like their parents seventh and eighth child, save Eglantine who was her parents only pride and joy, started roaring their discontent with their Auntie’s assessment. Raising a hand she begged off, “Peace! Or do ye not want the end of the tale?”

            “There’s more?” Edmond bounced in his place between the Durin lads.

            Nodding the elder hobbit continued, “Time passed, the lad grew up, took a wife, had children of his own, and grandchildren. Eventually he was withered and grey but he still recalled just what had happened all those years ago and still wondered in his quieter moments what had happened to his fellows.

            “One bright spring morning while taking a walk about the countryside he came upon the second most curious sight he’d ever had the pleasure.”

            “Was it the fairies!?” Delia’s twin, Dahlia squealed sending her strawberry curls sailing.

            “Was it his friends?!” Wilhelm demanded, one of the older lads who’d been silent till now, rolling his eyes anytime one of the younger or the Durins had interrupted the story.

            “Waz it cake?” Eglantine demanded as she fisted her hand and thrust it into her mouth. Someone was wanting their luncheon.

            Bilbo chuckled with the lads as she shook her head, “No sweetheart, not cake. Not fairies or friends either, but three queer little men! Each lookin’ rather different from the others but still managing to look like them as well. They barely qualified as Men, the tallest being only four feet. But where the old man was inclined to view them as children he couldn’t justify the full beard on one of the shorter ones or the white hair and wrinkles on the seeming eldest. Shocked he asked outright, ‘What are you!?’

            “To which the squat one replied, ‘Hobbits ye blighter! Whatcha think we were?!’” at the crotchety tone Bilbo effected the little ones all chittered and giggled, Wilhelm even hiccupped how she, “sounds just like Uncle Isembold!” As the chitter quieted she continued smiling down at the audience, “The Man invited the three in for tea and found they were a rather curious peoples all with elfish ears, dwarfish height and manish features. It was as he was talking to the elder that something seemed to remind him of his fellows and he said as much, ‘You’ve the looks of someone I once knew.’

            “The elder smiled softly and nodded, ‘Aye, and you’ve the looks of someone one of me great-great-great-grandas knew. They call me an’ mine Underhill, for where me ancestor’s met and married long years ago.’ Of course you realize the fey count time very differently from mortals. Similar to elves in that fashion, they don’t keep track of our dates and time, especially not when they’ve squirreled back to their homes under mists and magics. This Underhill chap, also known as Fallohide was a descendent of the old man’s mates. The hobbits all came from the same stock of fey and Man, though the one with the beard seemed a bit more dwarvish and the Fallohides seemed a bit more elfish. Perhaps the fey had spirited away a few of them as well. But after a lovely tea and chat the three bid their host fare thee well and were off once more. They were making their way West it seemed, seeking out greener hills to call their own. And from then on the Men Folk have warned their children off,

 

_“Up the airy mountain_

_Down the rushy glen,_

_We daren't go a-hunting,_

_For fear of little men;_

_Wee folk, good folk,_

_Trooping all together;_

_Green jacket, red cap,_

_And white owl's feather. **[4]**”_

 

            Bilbo smirked at the enraptured faces below her a moment before she found herself near falling face first into the ground below as a bellow was heard from the house who’s fence she’d perched herself on, “Bilbo Took-Baggins! What are ye doin’ crouched on that fence like a bounder!? An them kids all starin’ at ye like ye hung the moon. Tellin’ tales again? You’re a great spoiler is what you are!” Bilbo alighted from her perch just as a smiling blonde came bustling down the small path from the home, in her arms was an even _tinier_ bairn, this one not even out of nappies though already sporting a bushel of curly strawberry blonde hair. The mother was sporting a flour dusted apron and a rounded belly, clearly with child once more. The twin girls jumped to their feet gleefully cheering at their mama and baby brother and they danced about and tried to talk over each other for the honor of regaling her with the story they’d just heard. She laughed at her girl’s antics, “Yes, yes, I know your Auntie is quite the teller of tales dears. She’s been at it since we were lasses together if you’d believe it,” with a rueful look in the burglars direction the new hobbit turned her curious green eyes towards the lads, “An’ who’d these strappin’ lads be then?”

            The Durin’s had instantly jumped to their own feet at the approaching mother, each maintaining their hobbit babes, “Fíli and Kíli! At your service Lady Hobbit!” The synced bow was accompanied by synced shrieks as the faunts giggled over the change in position.

            Bilbo smiled at the boys as she nodded her approval, “Lads this is, obvious, Delia and Dahlia’s mum, my cousin Hildi[5]. And this beautiful wee one is Daniel!” the last was said in the most sickly sweet tone that had ever been uttered as the tiny one smiled and gurgled while he thrust his arms out to his Auntie, Bilbo more than happy to comply and give the pregnant mother a break.

            Seeing the way the children clustered about the lads Hildi shook her head, “Another set of spoilers I see. Well you’ve done me the service of keeping the tots out of me hair for more than ten tics, meaning I worship your existence and will feed you in thanks.”

            “That’s not necessary ma’am, we enjoyed meeting the little ones,” Fíli announced, watching the rotund hobbit like a hawk in case he had to dive forward and save her from a fall.

            “Aye, we wouldn’t want to put you out any,” Kíli confirmed with his most charming boyish grin as he, too, watched the lady in concern.

            The pair were taken back a moment as the blonde snorted and shared a glance with Bilbo, “Right polite lads at that, where’d you find these? Certainly haven’t been about our Tooks much iff’n they’ve still their manners.” She ignored Bilbo’s squawk and turned back to the bemused lads, “It’s no trouble at all lads. I’d hardly be a hobbit worth my salt if I sent someone off so close to luncheon without feeding them. Now come on, bring the tots. I’ve just finished the fish and chips, there’s also a small beer to wash it with. Assumin’ you’ll be visitin’ me father and the boys at the ranch up the ways a bit?”

            Bilbo nodded as the lot made their way into the smial, “Aye, I thought I’d pop in and see how Uncle Isembold’s been holding. Give the lads here a chance to see what a real working hobbit gets up to.”

            Hildi snorted again as she marched the little ones to the bath for a hand washing, “Work, pah.” And that’s all the Durin lads could get out of either hobbit for the rest of the meal.

***

            Uncle Isembold was as excited to see his niece as he always was, “If ye try climbin’ the bleedin’ walls again I’ll tan yer hide and turn it inta a saddle fer Belinda’s new foal.” The crotchety hobbit didn’t even glance at the younger lass as she walked up to him, the dwarrow trailing her.

            Bilbo blew a stray curl up and out of her way as she placed her hands on her hips and insisted; “I’ve not done anything of the like since I was a bairn, Uncle!”

            “My memory’s long, nothin’ good ever comes from you and Adalgrim comin’ together,” he sighed a bit as his granddaughter, Coral, took the saddle off her mount. Bleedin’ show offs, all his spawn.

            “Adalgrim’s here?” there was just a bit too much nonchalance in that tone to be ignored. It was obviously hiding panic. Turning a dark weathered face towards his sister’s child he chewed at the weed in his mouth as he spotted the source of the clunky noises standing near her watching the nonsense happening in the pen with rapt attention. The dark one was almost _vibrating_ out of his boots as he watched one of his elder grandkids circle on her black mount, barebacked, and swirl into a backwards gallop. Turning back to the lass where she stood, all Belladonna save the eyes, he spat the excess out and asked, “Where’d ye get the dwarves?”

            Bilbo shrugged, “Along the road. Good lads, I thought they’d enjoy some time with Flanagan,” yep, all her mother, right down to the downright _evil_ glint in those mischief filled eyes.

            He chewed a bit more, watching the confused look in the lads temper the curiosity and eagerness, though it didn’t bank it. Spitting once more he stepped back from where he’d been leaning against the fence and nodded before making motions to the stables, “He’s in there. New foals arn’t quite ready ta break in yet. Gots plenty time on his hands.”

            “Thank you Uncle!” the chipper voice was accompanied with a bouncy hug and kiss to his stubbly cheek.

            He grumbled a bit but returned the embrace nonetheless. Kept a firm eye on those lads though, as they continued to follow his niece like a pair of lost ducks. Spitting again he let a deep chuckle to roll through him as he gestured Coral over to him to have a chat about her form.

***

            “What is it with you and dwarrow!?” the harsh demand was pitched low enough that no one heard it save the intended recipient.

            Didn’t keep Bilbo from shifting her amber gaze hastily to the two Durins where they were trying, with her cousin Flanagan and his daughter Chrysanthemum’s help, to master the finer points of backwards riding. So far Fíli’d managed to mount the barebacked beast and Kíli had managed to canter about for a few moments before sliding off the ass end. The first time had been particularly hilarious, as the pony’d taken to expressing its displeasure with its foolish rider by shiteing on his head. Uncle Isembold had helped the lad clean up after that mess. Not that he stayed clean long with the tumbling about he was doing. But still, he was closer than Fíli to making the shift.

            Neither lad was, obviously, paying attention to their burglar so Bilbo felt it fine to turn a gleaming bright smile onto her dear cousin, “Grim! How are you! How are the triplets? Last I saw Thing Two was loosing her second tooth!”

            “Their fine, thank you for asking, now!” a pair of shrewd violet-blue eyes, still sharp for all the creases that framed them and the beginnings of that dashing widows peak in the deep brown curls, “Exactly what do you think you’re doing with this lot little cousin?”

            Bilbo’s brow creased as she turned back to watch Kíli clamber back onto his pony, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean cousin. Just some charming lads I picked up for a small jaunt.”

            Adalgrim’s own brow rose at the dense response and he turned to look at the dwarf lad as he straddled Betsy, “Look at him, Bilbo.”

            She did, nodding her head hesitantly, “Alright.”

            Rolling his deep purple blue eyes (she’d once told him they looked like pansies. He’d damn near brained her with his Shepard’s sling) he continued, “Now look at yourself.”

            Glancing down at her slightly dusty travel clothes she pursed her lips and cocked her head in a sideways glare, “Yes…?”

            Unamused, “Look back at the lad…”

            Amber eyes flashed to Kíli galloping around the grounds.

            “Now at yourself.”

            Where’d that tear come from?

            “At the lad!”

            He was just about to about face and yes! Kíli’s triumphant grin practically engulfed his face as he waved a victorious arm in the air and jeered at his, once again grounded, brother.

            “Yourself?!”

            She’d have to ask her cousin Daisy to look at this; she was useless with a needle.

            “By the mother, _back at the dwarf!_ ”

            “He’s on a horse!? What in the Green Lady’s name am I supposed to see here Adalgrim!?”

            “The lad’s a _warrior dwarf_!!! I don’t know if you realize but _warrior_ isn’t exactly the family profession!” Adalgrim all but roared before taking a deep breath and digging a hand into his chocolate curls and pulled.

            Bilbo pursed her lips as she turned and pointed an insisting finger at him, “Uncle Bandobras –”

            “Uncle Bandobras was a foot taller than you and ate too many of those odd plants that grow in the bog! As feral as a Took can get. You’re a _Baggins_ for Yavanna’s Mercy! Baggins’s sit at home, clean, and complain about their neighbors and the weather!” pansy eyes glared down at ambers, both hobbits mirroring the other with hands on hips and thinning lips.

            “Hey now! I take offence to that statement!”

            “You were _resembling_ that statement only last week when I came round for Afternoon Tea!”

            “Well bloody Lobelia’s a snake in the grass who should have more respect for her tutors! Trying to make off with mum’s special silver every time I turn my bleedin’ head. And just two weeks ago she near set the damn smial on fire with her acrobatics. Soot _everywhere_! Do you know how long it took to _clean_?! Nearly had the fireplace stoppered just to discourage any more nonsense but it gets dreadful chilly in the evening and I’ve no desire to shiver through my nightly readings.”

            The bland look on her cousin’s face finally registered and put a halt to the rambling, “How is this helping your case?”

            Plump lips pursed in an all too familiar pout as amber eyes glared up in obstinate, and silent, mutiny.

            With a long suffering sigh the elder Baggins-Took scrubbed at his face before settling a level look at his favored relation, “The last time you left the Shire we didn’t see hide nor hair of you for nearly two years. And when you _did_ come back you were a shadow of the little cousin who I’ve known as a sister the entirety of her life.” The honesty and clear concern shining through deep indigo eyes softened the obstinacy in the littlest Baggins-Took. Seeing this Adalgrim wrapped his cousin into a tight hug, which was just as fiercely returned. With a soft chuckle into unruly black curls he whispered, “So, though I understand our family’s proclivity, I’d rather not be the only Baggins-Took of Hobbiton. I know I can’t stop you from whatever this mad venture is on about, but… Just promise me you’ll come back to the Shire in one piece.”

            With a hearty sigh Bilbo nodded into her cousin’s chest, “Promise.” They stood there a little while longer, just soaking in the comfort they’d always freely given each other as children only moving away when Bilbo asked softly, “What if a bit gets sheered off? I mean… I’m not intending to loose any limbs but a finger or two? You never know with those bleedin’ awful mountains and – Oof!”

            Adalgrim glared down at the now thoroughly damp and angrily cursing hobbit lass where she sat in a well-placed mud pool. Luckily for the Baggins-Tooks the dwarflings chose this moment to race up to their hostess and demand to know more about hobbit life in the city. To which Adalgrim nodded and suggested they see Cousin Ida for Afternoon Tea, she ran the small bakery and had some of the best pies this side of the road.

 

[1] The hobbits that lived closer to Bree lived in Staddle. I’m making all these guys up though so just go with it.

[2] The Fairies’ Danced – Thomas Ravenscroft

[3] A Fairy Song – Percy French

[4] The Fairies – William Allingham

[5] OC – Daughter of Isembold, named for her Auntie Hildigard who’d died young in cannon. Isembold is noted as having ‘Many Descendants’ so I’m giving him a few. She’s married to a Breeland Tunnelly


End file.
